At what point does a woman become a COUGAR?

At what point does a woman become a cougar?

Could it be possible that one morning a woman wakes up and thinks that is it! I am fed up of playing by the rules and listening to tales of woe of marriage break ups, unfair splitting of property and how an ex-wife let herself go and thinks I want a man with no baggage? In that moment she has a choice – go for a monk or go for a man who has not been through that emotional carnage. Where are these men? There are bachelors or there is the younger man.

You may wonder where this thought originated from. Well, this weekend it was a friend’s birthday where he reserved a booth in one of the trendy night-clubs. Ten years ago this would have been nothing unusual; however, I am more a go out for dinner and drinks kind of woman now. The club was an elaborately decorated, filled with all manner of beauty, high heels and clothing that revealed more flesh than a butcher. Amongst this celebration of fleshy female expression inebriated young men looked but did not take action. It was during some rather expressive dancing on my part that I ended up chatting to a rather lovely young chap who thought my uncaring expressiveness was a phenomenon. I can see his point because everyone else was too busy taking photographs of themselves for social media and trying to appear to have a good time. Those who were dancing appeared rather self-conscious and as though their arms had been taped down. My attitude is live the moment and have as much fun as you can without care! Anyway as I shimmied and took great pleasure in the erratic forms that my body could create to the music, he asked me where I had learned to dance like it. He said you remind me of a proper raver. Ooops busted, no amount of face cream, or healthy diet and extreme fitness could disguise that I had experienced the first wave of rave. I looked him in the eye and admitted – I was on the dance floor at the time. There was a moment of silence while he calculated. His face travelled through all manner of contortions. Finally he said, ‘amazing! You are cougar!’ It was as if I had raised my status in a second to an older woman who hunts young men. The irony was that I was only dancing, he approached me and I certainly had not attempted to seduce him.

The rest of the night I chatted to a variety of people, please note I was absolutely sober, and it dawned on me that this era is relatively a lonely one. The room was filled with people all appearing and not really talking to each other. In that moment I realised that the world is open to cougardom, if you are that way inclined, because when you reach a certain age, you stop caring what people think about you. I actually reached it in my mid-twenties; however, the advantage is that when you know who you are and are able to chat to people, it opens the world of possibility. In truth so many people are happy that someone talked to them and young men seem particularly pleased when a fit woman with something to say flirts.

I had never really considered the art of being a cougar before. I was of the belief that people naturally gravitate to each other according to how their subtle unconscious signals ‘call’ each other rather than age defined parameters. Obviously there is that and opportunism when the world of alcohol creates cocktail glasses or beer goggles so people are unable to gauge age or anything else. I then reflected on all the men who chase younger models, well why can’t women do the same? Why is it so frowned upon and labelled? If you think about it men have their sexual peak in their early twenties and women in their mid-thirties. Surely that is not an accident. I do wonder about our society and all the rules. Also I wonder at what point the label cougar arrives? Is it five years, ten years or fifteen years? Who cares really – live your life and recognise young men have their benefits!  So maybe that woman who wakes up that morning and things f* it – I want a younger man is simply doing what is natural.

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